


Day 1 -- Memory

by Flamebird38



Series: 31 Days of Apex [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebird38/pseuds/Flamebird38
Summary: Bangalore's memories threaten to unearth themselves whenever they please. Unfortunately, sometimes Bangalore's memories are more like nightmares. When two different types of the present fight for her attention, will she be able which one is real and which one is long gone?
Series: 31 Days of Apex [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811551
Kudos: 9





	Day 1 -- Memory

The halls and training rooms of the IMC warehouse are unusually quiet at that time of night. The normal hustle and bustle of boots against metal, guns taking their final shots, and armor hitting the holding racks for the evening is now just an echoing silence. I had only seen it quiet like this after a crushing defeat on the Frontier. Even for me, this is extremely unsettling. 

As my boots on the floor sound like the very gunshots that should be going off, I notice another sound. Far off on the other side of the enormous complex a grunting sound softly broke the thick silence. A girl is training by herself with the punching bag. Her form is slightly off as she punches, kicks, and spins in an attempt to replicate a real fight. Surprisingly, even though my curious feet grew louder as they traveled closer, she doesn’t notice me until I clear my throat right behind her. “Ehem.”

She jumps, completely caught off guard. “S- Sergeant!” She turns to me, standing at attention. Her head is held high, her right fist is firmly placed over her heart, and her eyes fixated on mine in a hard stare. 

I look at her, examining her name tag. “At ease, Private.” She relaxes just a little but stays in place as I circle around her. Her hair is up in a regulation bun, but it is slightly messy with her bangs falling in front of her face from the training. The piercing I notice in her nose isn’t regulation, but I decide to let it go. “Morrison is it?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” she answers me.

“Hm… I admire your persistence in training. Even by yourself.” I stop in front of her. “How about you and I go a few rounds? It’s a lot different than a punching bag.”

She stares at me, unsure about my proposal. “I- I- Sure. I mean, I would be honored, ma’am.”

“Perfect,” I smile. I take off my jacket and toss it to the side as we make our way to the sparring mat. The private is rigid, trying to hide her intimidation.

“Anything goes, Sarge?” She asks me. 

“Certainly. It’s not like I’ll be going easy.”

She gulps and nods getting into a sparring stance. I start to do the same, but before I’m even ready, she charges at me. I dodge and attempt to trip her, but I’m mere centimeters too short. She recovers from catching thin air fairly quickly and spins around to see me on the other side of the mat. I hear her growl slightly as she takes steps towards me again. She’s still rigid, pride oozing as she looks for ways to try and take me down. As she gets closer, she quickly spins at my legs trying to sweep my feet from under me, but I jump avoiding her attack. Twisting my hips one-eighty, I kick her with my back foot and make contact with her face. A repressed scream catches in her throat as she staggers. 

I advance with a punch to her stomach. Morrison is quickly able to counter, grabbing my wrist and spinning behind me trying to put me in some type of arm lock. She, surprisingly, succeeds and my arm feels like she’s going to rip it out of its socket. With a grunt of frustration, I hook my foot around the back of her ankle and pull hard. We both fall back, slamming against the thin mat.

Morrison wrestles hard to get on top of me. Just before she does, I’m able to position and throw her off of me. I send her flying several feet across the floor, bouncing and tumbling along the way. I quickly hop to my feet, preparing myself for her next attack. I can hear my competition’s groans as she struggles to stand.

“Don’t give up now, FNG,” I smirk. She just stares daggers at me, not offering a rebuttal. “Why so quiet? Did I knock ya speechless?”

“If you weren’t a sarge, I’d have plenty to say,” she says, spitting on the ground. She growls and charges once again with what seems all the energy she has left.

Before she can even get a few feet from her starting point, I pull out my concealed P2020. She skids to a stop, falling flat on her ass. Rage consumes her face, but the fear in her eyes gives away how she really feels. She scrambles backward, looking for anything around her to use to level the playing field.

“I said anything goes, did I not?” I slowly step towards her, making her stare down the barrel of the pistol. “Never… EVER give your opponent time to pull a weapon out. Those militia rebels will never play fair. The moment they have an opportunity to stab you or shoot you point blank, they will.”

Morrison is about to speak when she is interrupted by a new voice calling out to us. “Bangs! You givin’ my crew a heart attack over there?” I turn with both a scowl and a smile on my face. I struggle to try to see the tall figure of my best friend and bunkmate, Sharifah, stomping towards us. With her dark hair and dark clothes, she always had a knack for being able to hide in the shadows of the warehouse undetected.

“Just giving her a reality check, Staff Sergeant.” I put away my P2020 as she stops in front of us with folded arms.

She looks at me, then at the Private. “Damn, Curls, you’re not even gonna help her up? How rude.” She steps over offering her hand to Morrison and pulling her up with ease. I watch as she gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself now, Private. There are not too many people who can take on Williams and live to tell the tale. Go get cleaned up and rested, yeah? You all get a break on PT tomorrow anyways.” 

Morrison salutes us, and Shari’s simple head nod of acknowledgment is all she needs to excuse herself and head back to the barracks. I watch her as she tries too hard to not show her limping as she makes her way down the hallway. Shari puts her hands on my shoulders, turning me around and guides me in the opposite direction to our quarters.

I give her a sideways glance. “So, why is Staff Sergeant Shari canceling PT tomorrow?”

She laughs. “Believe it or not, our mission got moved up. The orders came down from the Major’s office a few hours ago. We leave at 0300 so we can get to the target zone before sunrise.”

“0300? That’s… only a few hours from now.”

She only shrugs. “Then I guess we better hurry. Last one there is a rotten egg.”

Sharifah takes off down the hall at full speed. I laugh as I start to chase after her. Flying down the hallway was almost like flying through time. I glance at Shari but she quickly glitches into someone else. A man. With… hair that has more product in it than an actual salon. Are those mushrooms all over his arms? I shake my head and the man turns back into Sharifah again. 

I stop running to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, but when I do, I find myself on our squadron's goblin ship. I look around and see my entire squad suiting up. Looking down, I see I have all of my gear strapped and ready to go as well. 

“Alright, ladies, listen up!” Sharifah walks in front of us all. I look at those in the group who cringe. They never liked being called ladies, but Shari always enjoyed teasing everyone she came in contact with.

“This is a simple drop mission,” she continues. “We drop onto the missile storage facility, take what’s important, and then light the rest of the place up. We’re in and out in no time, minimal casualties. It’s all routine, nothing to sweat about.”

Seconds later, the pilot of the ship announces that we’re almost to the drop zone, but it’s difficult to hear his voice over the sound of… video games? Since when did we have video games on the ship? I try to convince myself that I’m just going crazy as I take formation next to Shari, but I’m certain I’m losing my mind when I realize our squad of seven somehow turned into three.

However, I still turn to my best friend and raise my fist. “It’s time to drop…”

“Shock…” She raises her fist.

“And rock,” we both say simultaneously as we connect fists, and launch out of the ship. 

However, the next voice I hear is unlike any I’ve heard. “I say we land here!”

I turn to my right in a panic. Next to me, I see a robot. Then I see Shari. Then the robot. Then Shari. Then the second voice.

“Seriously, tin can? Landing in Artillery is a suicide mission! Land at Bunker instead! Ha!” I crane to see around the robot and see the man with the mushrooms again.

But it’s the words “suicide mission” that get me. Those two words are all it takes for me to see the horrors again. Shari is majestic as ever as we land in the middle of the holding base. Then I see the militia fighters scrambling to get into position. They knew we were coming. Then I see the nightmare.

“We were told if you came, this entire thing was to be turned into one massive suicide mission,” a militia soldier speaks, not hiding his fear.

The rest of the militia stares at us coldly as they shoot at the barrels of oil. Everything went up in smoke and flame so fast I wasn’t even able to be shocked. Black everywhere, heat unbearable, concrete pinning part of my legs down.

“Shari?” My voice sounds distant, echoey. Am I even really here? I look over and see her right next to me. Her eyes wide open, face bloody, body completely lifeless. “Shari!” My squad comes for me. Hastily they drag me out of the rubble. I try to tell them to go back. To not worry about me. To get my best friend out of there even if she is a goner. Images of her keep flashing through my mind. First, it’s her dead eyes, then her glowing smile. I can’t unsee any of it. 

Then I feel my feet hit solid ground. I’m snapped back to reality… actual reality. My skin feels the warm, dry air of Kings Canyon and soaks in the mild sunlight. My nose picks up the stench of raw sewage. Water Treatment? We landed in Water Treatment? I guess today’s match is going to be a joke.

“Bangalore, are you okay?” Pathfinder turns to me. His monitor in the middle of his chest that usually displays a happy face now shows a sad, blue one. “I know you can usually be grumpy when teamed with Mirage, but you seem sad, friend.”

“I’m fine.” My answer comes out hard hitting and bitter.

“Come on, Path. Let’s grab some gear before another team shows up and fries us.” Mirage takes Pathfinder by the hand and starts to lead him towards structures. “Besides, she’s just scared about what Wraith is gonna do when they meet. I’ve never seen Bang whoop someone’s ass harder than I saw on the dropship earlier.” Mirage turns to me and lets out a nervous laugh.

I let out a huff, but as I start trying to find a weapon, I can’t stop watching Path. I envy him sometimes. Most times if I’m being honest. Being able to go from happy to sad to mad to back to being happy in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I wish I could feel a certain emotion and then go back to being normal when I wanted. Sometimes I wish burying any memory and emotion isn't the only way I can pretend to look like a functioning person.

Shari died long ago. Maybe she was the first person I lost but she certainly wasn't the last. I should have buried my memories when they buried her body… and maybe that's where I messed up.


End file.
